In 2004, a racial controversy erupted at a small, mostly white performing arts high school in rural Massachusetts. There were protests. TV news crews. A tense all-school assembly. And then, an announcement: the school would stage an iconic American musical that no one saw coming. We're Doing The Wiz from Radiotopia is the story of that production. 

Radiotopia Presents premiers short multi-episode series in one podcast feed, unified by bold, inclusive storytelling pushing the boundaries of audio. Learn more at radiotopiapresents.fm and discover more shows from across the Radiotopia network at radiotopia.fm

My aunt Rari divorced her husband so completely and so long ago that I don’t even know the man’s name. She tells me that story and about the life she built without him. It makes me contemplate the value of a life spent alone — but also of lifelong companionship.

Most divorces in my family bring some sense of relief. It may take three years to get there, or it may take thirty years, but once it’s over, it feels pretty clear that this is for the best. But it’s not so clear for my Uncle Eric’s relationship.

The idea of a lifetime commitment can feel impossible, when it can still fall apart in year 20, or year 30, or 35. My own parents’ marriage never made it that far, but some of my aunts and uncles did, only to find that after all those years, they too were better off apart.

My grandmother never sent presents for birthdays or holidays, and didn't expect us to either. She seemed to resist anything that felt like authority, convention and tradition; which is why it's so strange that she was once married to my grandfather — a Harvard-educated lawyer.

My parents divorced when I was eight years old — young enough that I don’t have a lot of clear memories of it, but old enough that I was definitely watching, listening, and learning. So I asked them both to tell me what happened, and got two pretty different stories.

When I decided to get married, every living member of my family who had ever been married had also gotten divorced. Apparently, I thought my marriage would end differently.

Listen to Personally: Forever is a Long Time starting June 16, 2025.

Introducing an upcoming season of Personally, called Creation Myth. Helena does not want kids. Her husband does. What else is the purpose of life, he keeps asking her, hoping she’ll change her mind. But after eight years he gives up and leaves. Lost and alone, she’s left with his question. What is our purpose? And what if it is already here?

This series is an Official Selection of the Tribeca Audio Festival. Make sure you follow Personally, so you know when the full season becomes available, later this year. 

As Alex’s newfound family grapples with who he really was and what side of the war he was fighting for, COVID sets in. Will Alex ever get a real reunion?

Alex finally takes a DNA test, hoping to prove his identity – once and for all. What will it find? Who will it find? The results surprise everyone, even Alex.

Alex’s story goes viral (as viral as it can in the early 2000s), but doubts and accusations swirl around him – dividing his family and community. Alex is called a liar and a conman trying to profit from the Holocaust, yet he refuses to do the one thing that would prove he’s telling the truth.

Uldis is now Alex – living an ordinary, happy life in Australia, but the horrors of his past have resurfaced. Fifty years after his name was stolen from him, can he find it again? A letter from Minsk might hold the answers.

Uldis Kurzemnieks believed he would take his lie to the grave – his life had depended on it. For decades, he told the same story of how he survived the Second World War as a boy, but his niece always believed there was more to the story. Now, she’s learning the whole truth – piece by shocking piece.

As a child, Alex Kurzem faced a choice: be killed or join the killers. 

After escaping the massacre that killed his family during the Holocaust, he’s found by the enemy and taken in as one of their own – becoming a Jewish boy masquerading as a Nazi soldier. He’d live with this false identity for so long, he no longer remembered who he was before.

This is the story Alex would tell the world decades later, but could a story so unbelievable be true? Host Dan Goldberg finds out.

“Isn’t this the a-hole who killed Paul McKinnon? Shut up and die!” A distracting obsession. An unexpected letter. And a controversial method of regaining lost memories. Plus, a final message from Paul.

“Were you waiting for me to just say goodbye?” Alex and his grief counsellor, Yvonne, dive into one memory of Paul that Alex never forgot and try to trigger others. Plus, Alex’s parents discover that some of their own memories are not what they seem.

A funeral. A strange smell. A story that just doesn’t add up. In the days after Paul’s death, grief consumes Alex’s family. His mom is catatonic. His dad is furious. Both are focused on one thing: demanding the police take responsibility for what they’ve done. Meanwhile, Alex’s memories of Paul are already slipping away. Now, he confronts the roots of that memory loss with a grief counselor who has her own connection to Paul — she saw him die.

Alex worshipped his older brother, Paul. But when Paul was killed by a speeding police car at age 14, Alex almost immediately started to forget him. First his voice. Then his laugh. Then pretty much everything else. But what if those memories could be retrieved? Through a series of intimate conversations with family and friends about Paul’s final moments alive, Alex begins to explore why Paul’s death has become the only thing he remembers.

How do you forget your favourite person in the world? Alex remembers everything about the day a speeding police car killed his brother. But his brother, alive? Those memories are lost – and he wants them back. Sorry About the Kid is an emotional, deeply personal meditation on the losses that define us. Hosted by Alex McKinnon. Produced with Mira Burt-Wintonick (WireTap, Love Me).

Graham faces his fears and travels to Vancouver to learn how to surf from blind screenwriter Ryan Knighton.

Special thanks to Ryan Knighton.